


Silk Sheets

by Raikishi



Category: Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raikishi/pseuds/Raikishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy touching and not quite sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Based off prompt: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11264.html?thread=27133440#t27133440  
> I'd like to see a story in which Steve doesn't want to engage in anal sex and instead of being upset/dismissive or trying to bring Steve around to desiring anal sex, Tony is all "All right then, where do we start? Blowjobs, intercrural, frottage, handjobs, something a little more on the kinky side? Chop, chop, Cap; so many options, so little time!"
> 
> I'm thinking of this as an early-stages established relationship, but I'm not too picky so long as there's a pretty explicit intent that the sexual relationship will continue into the future without penetrative sex being a problem between them. Steve just plain not wanting to have anal sex because it doesn't interest him or turn him on, rather than it being an internalized-homophobia "40's issue," is also preferable to me. 
> 
>  
> 
> And I wanted to see if I could write smoopy, feel good sex for the Ultimates

    Steve thought Tony would be faster in bed.

    “Pardon?” Tony asks, lifting his head up so quickly he nearly brains Steve.

    “Nothing,” Steve replies sharply, tangling his fingers into Tony’s brown locks. They’re softer than they look, falling over Steve’s fingers like silk.

    He runs the back of his other hand against Tony’s cheek, relishing the feel of smooth skin; he’d nearly had a heart attack a week ago when Tony had greeted him with that green stuff on his face. Steve couldn’t understand it, why Tony had to be so dolled up all the time, taking even more time on his appearance than Jan had been. Now, though, Steve can barely resist rubbing his face against Tony’s. Everything on Tony is so delicately cared for, head to toe. It makes Steve want to curl up tight around him which was ridiculous; Tony has his own very reliable, very real set of armor.

    Steve settles for running brown locks through his fingers, massaging Tony’s scalp as he tries to pull the brunette closer, tries to get Tony’s wickedly talented tongue back on his body.

    Tony flashes him an amused smile, brown eyes dropping to the nipple he’d been working on seconds ago. He takes the nub between two fingers, stroking absently as he asks, “Faster? Does Captain America wish to file a complaint?”

    Steve growls at him, biting back the yelp as Tony pinches viciously.

    “Stark,” Steve bites out, refusing to beg. Instead he locks his fingers in Tony’s hair, tugging insistently.

     Tony smirks at him, pulling back, disentangling himself from Steve’s grip with all the slipperiness of an eel. Narrowing his eyes, Steve tightens his legs around Tony, digging his heels in just below the curve of Tony’s ass to keep him close. Tony’s grin grows loose and easy at that and he leans in to steal a kiss. It’s lazy and slow; Tony uses an excessive amount of tongue, warm and careless in a way that has Steve opening up for it, every muscle in his body unknotting.

    “It was a compliment,” Steve mutters when it becomes clear Tony’s content never to let this progress, blocking Steve’s wandering hands with practiced ease.

    The thought of that leaves a bitter taste in Steve’s mouth and he leans into Tony, lets the brunette kiss it away.

    “Oh?” Tony breathes against his lips and Steve lets out a rumble of content as Tony’s warm calloused hands slides up his stomach.

    “I thought you’d be more –,” Steve falters, working his jaw to fight down the urgent moan at the back of his throat as Tony pinches his nipples. He tugs hard at Tony’s hair in retaliation.

    “Almost as sensitive as as a girl,” Tony all but crows delightedly and Steve resists the urge to punch him. The scowl he sends Tony must be impressive because it wins him an eye roll and loose apology.

    “Yes, yes we all know you’re not,” Tony huffs, sliding his leg up Steve’s thigh, pressing his knee against the noticeable bulge in Steve’s pants.

    Steve bites down on a moan, rocking absently as arousal settles like a hot brand in his gut. He brings his hands down to Tony’s ass, sliding up beneath the robe to get at skin. He can feel tight muscle beneath his hands and tightens his grips, the hold bruising and presses them close, rocking.  

    The action makes Tony giggle, honest to god giggle, and shove a hand down Steve’s pants.

    Tony has great hands, Steve thinks, dazed at the bludgeon of want. To be fair, he’s always thought so even when those same hands had been clutched white-knuckled around a wine glass, when Tony had been trying to drink away the tumor, when they had been cool and clammy to the touch; there was always a sort of grace to them, slender and calloused.

    Steve shoved his hips upwards, fucking Tony’s fist shamelessly, hissing as Tony tightens his grip in a way that makes Steve dizzy, the briefest spark of not-quite pain making the pleasure so much more intense.

    “More what?” Tony asks abruptly, loosening his grip just the slightest bit as he works at Steve’s ears.

    “Wha?” Steve manages.

    “You were saying something.”

    Was he? Steve makes a short irked noise and Tony giggled again.

    “You thought I'd be more...?” Tony asks, dropping his voice to a low purr that made Steve want to do terrible things to him.

    “More 'get in and get out',” he replies, struggling to keep the sentence from slurring, and Tony rewards him with a lazy swirl of the tongue, a long swirl of heat around his nipple that makes him jerk.

    “More ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ ?” and Tony is definitely laughing at him.

    Steve is going to kill him.

    “You bas–” he hiccups, barely holding back the pleased moan as Tony’s thumb rubs against the head of his cock, pinky sliding beneath his balls and sending a wild heat racing through his body.

    Between the scant space allowed by their bodies, Tony works his hand steadily, never once faltering as Steve starts tugging urgently at the wine-red robe. It slips from Tony’s body, the start of far too many recent dreams and Steve presses his face into Tony’s shoulders immediately, muffling his increasingly urgent whines.

    Tony releases a low heavy noise, soft and breathy and delicious, so loaded with want Steve didn’t know what to do it it. Steve huffs out a shaky breath, watching Tony’s skin pebble beneath his breath. Without thinking he slots his mouth against the gentle slope of Tony’s shoulders, relishing the jump in Tony’s breath.

    “Ow,” Tony mutters when Steve bites down hard and sudden.

    Steve can taste the flinch, feel the jump of muscle beneath his tongue and he sucks hard without thought. The billionaire stretches like a cat, exposing one long expanse of supple flesh. Steve muffles a groan, wanting so badly to put his mouth everywhere, leave marks so deep in Tony’s skin they don’t ever fade. So he does and Tony just lets him, pets his hair lazily, strokes around Steve's cock not faltering in the least; Steve tries very hard not to think about the bulge pressing against his hipbone, focusing instead on the warm hand around his cock, rocking into the slow lazy strokes.

    He’s never quite had it so easy. Time with Gail were few and far in between and every encounter spent had been fast, heated and _desperate._ The memories still made a familiar burn settle across his skin, pool in his cock.

    But this is different; slow and wicked and lazy.

    Like sin.

    Slowly Steve pulls back, drawing his lips across the darkening bruise carefully. He feels Tony’s breath stutter, the movement subtle; Steve’s quickly discovering that everything important about the man often is, existing in silent parallel to the brass ego Tony wears like a second armor.  

    He traces another mark into Tony’s skin, one that will be barely hidden by a collar, one he will see each time Tony leans across him, spot every time Tony turns his head just so. Steve growls, surging upwards, licking at Tony’s lips. Tony opens up easily enough, moaning softly and Steve chases down the bitter twist of alcohol and medication, learns places to swipe his tongue that earn him a shiver and quiet whimper. Tony’s hands tighten around his when Steve brings one up to scratch at the infamous beard and Steve doesn’t think anything of it until he’s got the heel of his palm firmly against Tony’s dick. Tony gets one desperate whimper loose as he rocks against Steve’s hand before the reality of this catches up with Steve and he jolts and pulls away, yanking his hand from Tony’s loose grip.

    Tony’s dark eyes follow him, unreadable.

    “Oops, got carried away,” Tony says flippantly, not quite unhappy but nowhere near as delighted as he had been earlier.

    The contrast is frightfully sharp.

    Steve struggles to get his mouth to work properly but Tony slides his hand against the front of Steve’s pants and the words fall out.

    "Come on then captain, let's hear you," Tony purrs against Steve's neck, slotting his hand against Steve's boxers, thumbing the growing wet patch.

    Steve flushes at the feel of it, just on this side of humiliating. He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it because Tony’s tugging at his jeans, trying to get them off with an urgency that hadn’t been there before. Steve raises his hips despite himself and Tony’s on him the second the pants come off, taking Steve’s cock into his mouth. He bobs his head, working his mouth around Steve’s cock and oh, that’s–

    Steve hisses at the feel of Tony’s fingers, the slender digits prodding gently against his ass. He makes a desperate grab for Tony only to have the man slip out of his grip each time, eluding him with the same ease he uses to perform aerial maneuvers. The fact that Steve’s brain is dribbling out of his ears does nothing to aid his attempts. He’s shuddering as Tony’s little touches get braver, more demanding and struggles to keep his hips from jerking, shoving into the wet heat of Tony’s mouth.

    “Tony,” Steve hisses, tugging insistently at Tony’s hair until finally he draws up a disgruntled billionaire.

    “It’s less hot when you’re actively trying to tear my head off,” Tony snarks, scowling at him, the barest hint of confusion on his face, “I don’t think I need any more damage there.”

    “Tony,” Steve somehow makes the name into a noise of pure frustration, grabbing the man and dragging him close, kissing the furrow off his face. He swallows the muted noises of protest Tony offers up, tugging the billionaire into his lap. Tony’s a warm and solid weight, too light from improper diet and illness but he’s gorgeously welcoming, and makes deliciously soft greedy little noise when Steve tangles their limbs together. Without preempt, Steve takes Tony’s cock into his hands, stubbornly fighting down the sudden nerves. He manages a few strokes until Tony starts wincing and pulls off to spit into his palm.

    “Tactical genius,” Tony snickers into Steve’s shoulder and it’s a relief to have him all warm and pliant again.

    Steve could feel Tony’s lashes fluttering against his neck, light touches. He can feel the short wisps of Tony’s breath against his Adam’s apple, swallowing hard at the feel. He focuses on Tony’s breath, on the constant weight of him.

    The brunet sighs, going limp as Steve swipes a thumb across the head of Tony’s cock, legs spreading wider as he plucks kisses from Steve’s lips.

    “Done this before?” Tony asks, fluttering his lashes. It should look ridiculous but Steve feels himself warm and he flexes his arm, drawing the man closer.

    “I was in a war,” Steve grouses, “Soldiers helped eac–”

    He pauses when Tony winces, hand stilling.

    “Can you please be dour and gruff when my precious bits aren’t in your hand?” Tony asks, nipping at the thick band of muscle that was Steve’s upper arm before shifting, readjusting himself so that he straddles Steve’s lap, “Alright, come on darling, lie back for me.”

    Steve tenses at that, fingers spasming and he yanks his hand away before he could do something like break Tony’s – he was not going in that direction. And that would be a terrible shame. He quite liked Tony’s –

    Steve ducks his head, shuffling backwards but Tony catches him by the arm, leaning in close.

    “I thought you’ve done this before?” he asks, voice light and without judgement. It still makes it feel as if he’s pandering to Steve, makes the soldier bristle.

    “I have,” Steve mutters, trying to shake off Tony’s arms but the brunette tightens his grip, following after and Steve relents, scowling at Tony.

    He grumbles, the faintest trace of his accent slipping, “Don’t mean I like... that bit.”

    He meets Tony's eyes resolutely, jaw clenching, just daring Tony to argue. Something warm and gentle passes through Tony’s eyes, makes Steve’s gut clench and flutter like he's thirteen, high off his first crush. His hands clench and unclench in the sheets before he breaks the contact, making a grab for the lube he knows Tony’s got in the nightstand drawer.

    “Want me on the bottom then?” Tony asks and Steve hesitates because not really, no.

    Tony slides against him quickly, reassuring as he nips at Steve’s jawline, quick dabs of tongue and teeth. Before Steve’s aware of it, Tony’s stolen the little bottle of lube.

    “Alright darling, how do you want me then?” Tony purrs, eyes sparkling and Steve cannot begin to imagine what he’s thinking, “Blowjob? Intercrural? Frottage?”

    The look of genuine interest on Tony’s face leaves Steve at a loss so he scowls at the other man.

    Tony takes it as a sign to keep going, rattling off a rather impressive list. Steve’s known hookers with a smaller repertoire than Tony. He makes a half desperate grab for Tony’s arm, yanking him forward just to get him to stop.

    Tony grins at him, tangling their fingers together and lifting Steve's hand in order to slot his mouth against Steve's wrist. The soldier shivers despite himself.

    "I live to serve," Tony's rasps, pulling back a scant inch and Steve made a grab for him.

    “Whatever,” Steve mutters, already forming a mental checklist. But never mind that, he can bring it up again once he's gone over the list himself, developed a plan of attack.

    He drops his voice low, the closest mimicry of Tony’s soft purrs he'll allow himself to make, “Do whatever you want.”

    He fights off the smile at the still in Tony’s breathing, a sudden all-stop that only comes when Tony’s completely and utterly focused. Steve peers at him, watches with baited as Tony just… melts, smile loose and warm.

    “My, aren’t you sweet,” Tony murmurs, voice low and heated, the words burning across Steve’s lips.

    “Only if you make it good Stark,” Steve comes back with, a challenge in his eyes as he unrolls his body.

    The words are barely out before Tony pounces.


End file.
